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by ShadeShadow234



Series: Scattered Feathers [1]
Category: Noragami
Genre: Gen, Slight spoilers?, Wingfic, Yato-centric, descriptive, everyone has wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 18:56:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11019516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadeShadow234/pseuds/ShadeShadow234
Summary: A descriptive piece telling us of the many characters and their wings.





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**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something descriptive and somehow spun a story out of it. Kind of. I don't know how I did it either. First story in a series.

Nora's wings were tattered and dead. They were pitch black, and for each master she had a feather was stained red. A deep, dark, bloodied red. (Yato's feather was a dark blue)

Yato liked Sakura's wings. They were alive. An ombré from a light cherry blossom pink to darker, warmer cherry, her feathers fluttered in the breeze like the petals of the tree after which she was named. Sometimes he worries they would blow off and float away just as easily.

Yato didn't like his fathers wings. They weren't tattered like Nora's. They were just dead.

Yato had never seen his own wings. Whenever they began to grow Father would call Nora to him and Yato's wings would be no more. Until the next time they began to grow.

Then they would be severed again.

* * *

 

Bishamon's wings were a beautiful purple. Deep and royal, like the cloak of a king they wrapped themselves around the regal war Gods shoulders. The blight was an ugly smattering on them.

Kazuma, the only one of her Shinki he had truly interacted with, had wings like a diamond, showing off his transformation in a way that words or images never truly could. They had been a plain, deep grey once.

Nora cut Yato's wings by herself now.

* * *

 

The girl Yato passed on the street, while looking for a lost kitty, had some of the strangest wings he'd seen. They had qualities like a phantoms, but not tattered and blighted like ones. They were almost transparent and a range of pinks.

When she tackled him away from the bus her tail matched.

Yukine had fluffy wings. They were a deep gold, like a mix between his eyes and hair. The feathers still had a downy quality to them, and it seemed they would stay that way. Neither of them minded, they made good pillows because of that.

Yato still didn't know what his wings looked like. He kept them tucked close to his back, under his jacket.

He never wanted them to be cut off again.

* * *

 

Kofuku's wings were a deceptive pink. When light hit them at certain angles, tragedies could be seen.

Daikoku's wings almost appeared as fans.

* * *

 

Rabo's wings were a bloodied white, like fresh linen stained by a murder.

* * *

 

Ebisu's wings were younger and smaller than they should have been. It was because he died so often. They would take a while to grow. They were beautiful though, a deep forest green and sometimes a golden sparkle could be seen either chasing or being chased by a phantom.

* * *

 

The bases of Yato's wings were scarred. Horribly.

* * *

 

Seeing the ripped and rotting phantom wings tear out of Yukine's was something Yato never wished to see again.

* * *

 

Phantoms had wings too. It was easier not to look at them.

* * *

 

When Father had detained him, he tried to cut off Yato's wings again. Yato had snarled, not unlike the masked wolf phantoms that tore into him.

He took more bites that day than any other.

He did not care.

* * *

 

It wasn't until Bishamonten had torn into the underworld for him- someone she had hated with all her being for centuries, that the thought struck Yato. Maybe he could trust them with his wings.

When Yaboku collapsed onto Hiyori, his wings finally pulled themselves free of their self imprisionment, and tried to stretch themselves.

They couldn't.

* * *

 

Yato's wings were blue. They were like sapphires and sparkling seas, like the sky on a sunny day but the sky on a rainy one too. They were like the blue of rivers and brooks, the blue of crackling electricity, the blue of gems. They were like his eyes. Sometimes a five yen coin danced from one feather to the next. Sometimes twin blades followed it.

And they were beautiful.

Except...

Sometimes Yato's wings were dark. They were dark like a bloodied battlefield. They were dark like the eyes of a killer. They were dark... Dark like a phantoms. But they were still beautiful.

A deadly kind of beautiful.


End file.
